


The Perils of AutoCorrect

by AndreaLyn



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: M/M, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 08:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aidan's gone and fucked it all up and it's not even his fault. It's his phone's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perils of AutoCorrect

Aidan’s still not sure how one singular moment could be so critical and so overwhelmingly crucial to his life, and yet, here he is. Here he is with phone in hand and a text conversation with Dean open. Here he stands and stares down at life as he knows it ending, desperately trying to type to fix the autocorrect from…from…

Well, he doesn’t fucking know what it’s doing, now does he?

If he were a believer in something more along the lines of a fate that’s actually concerned with him, he might even think his phone is trying to set him up with Dean.

It’s the only explanation as to why his phone’s gone and replaced his typo with…

Well.

_Saw you staring at my cock today. You want it or something?_

And he’d meant _coat_. He had been typing coat and the thing replaced to ‘cock’ and he’s fucked. He’s absolutely fucked. Resolutely, he locks up the screen and shoves his phone into the nearest waiting palm. In this case, it’s Adam and he’s looking at Aidan like he’s gone insane. “What’s this?”

“Phone,” Aidan says. “Don’t let me have it all day.”

“…Why?” Adam asks, but he pockets the phone and the immediate danger is out of sight. 

Aidan grins anxiously. “No reason, none at all. Hey, do you know where Deano is today?”

“Recording bits for ADR, I think,” Adam says, a furrow on his brow as he watches Aidan wandering off. “So, I’ll just hold on to your phone, then? Should I tell Dean you’re looking for…”

“No!” Aidan cuts him off sharply. “No, don’t do that. I’m good.”

He’s got a plan. 

*

“So, what you’re saying is,” James remarks, eyeing Aidan warily, “you want me to distract Dean and steal his phone. Why am I acting like a thirteen year old suddenly? And what am I getting out of this deal?” 

Aidan’s wildly searching around for anything that might help him, but given that he can’t exactly offer the gems of New Zealand scenery, he’s at a bit of a loss. “I sent something I wasn’t supposed to and I need to delete it off the phone before he sees it,” Aidan says, thinking that it sounds absolutely normal when he puts it like that.

“Right,” James drawls. “You know his password, then?”

“I’ll figure that out when I get to it!” Aidan protests, giving James a shove in the direction of the recording studios. “You owe me for lugging your arse back to your flat for the last five times we went out. For an Irish bloke, you really don’t hold your ale,” he notes. 

“Are you meant to be buttering me up? Because you’re doing a horrible job of it.”

“Please,” Aidan begs, peeking around James’ shoulder to make sure Dean’s not on his way out. “Seriously, Jimmy. _Please_.” The last thing he needs to do is fuck it all up with Dean when there are months of filming left to go. It’s not like he’d wanted to let on that he’s got a raging hard-on for Dean, but after that text, he’s pretty much doomed to flirtatious territory. 

James looks considerate. “I’ll do it for a price.”

“Name it.”

“I get to see what’s so important on his phone.”

Aidan opens his mouth to protest, but it’s either he agrees or he has to go to the next actor or crew member for help and that’s not exactly a rumour he’s willing to start. “Fine,” he says. “ _Fine_ , you can see what I sent and laugh about it and call me an idiot, so long as Dean doesn’t see it.”

James smirks and nods. “Your wish is my command, young Master Turner.”

*

Really, he shouldn’t have trusted James.

It’s a full twenty-four hours later, Aidan’s phone is still in Adam’s possession, and Dean’s phone is still tucked securely in his back pocket. “I couldn’t get it, unless you wanted my hand all over his arse. I figured I’d avoid your jealous rage,” James drawls with amusement. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t you go and ask to borrow his phone?”

Simple, elegant, and entirely like a trick.

“What if he asks about my phone?”

“You’re an actor,” James points out. “Tell a lie.”

It’s been twenty-four hours is the problem and Dean checks his phone every few, which means that there’s no chance in hell that he hasn’t seen the text. And, see, normally Aidan would laugh it off, but he’s painfully aware that he’s an idiot around Dean – laughing too long at his jokes, drifting too close, spending his evenings watching New Zealand shows and trying not to rip his cock off from wanking to Dean playing a slutty god of poetry.

Yeah, he’s fucked.

And he’s also being physically pushed in Dean’s direction. “Oi,” Aidan says sharply at James, catching his balance and walking the last bit of the way. “Dean!” he calls over, plastering a smile on his face and trying to pretend that nothing’s amiss.

“Hey,” Dean greets Aidan, his cheeks colouring pink. 

Yeah. Aidan officially hates his phone.

“Look, mate,” Aidan starts, already feeling like he’s buzzing on too much energy all at once. “About that thing, I didn’t…”

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” Dean interrupts.

_Wait._

“Wait,” Aidan says, catching up to his mental voice.

_What_?

“What?” Aidan blurts out. 

Dean’s got his mouth open, which is doing horrible things to the tightness in Aidan’s jeans, and that pink has flushed to a darker colour. “Your text. About how I was looking at you when we were filming those scenes with the barrels. I didn’t think you’d notice, I sort of figured you didn’t want to acknowledge me looking. And then you did, but you sort of went avoidant…”

“It was AutoCorrect,” Aidan blurts out. “My phone fucked up. I said coat, I meant my new coat, it was…” His brain’s working overtime to catch up to this conversation and it makes it by the time Dean’s face falls. “You were seriously looking? At me?”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees, biting his lower lip as he offers a sheepish smile and runs his fingers through the frizzing curls his hair’s begun to grow into. “Okay, so, this is where things get awkward, isn’t it?” He reaches a hand out, like he’s introducing himself to Aidan for the first time. “Hi. I’m Dean O’Gorman. I stare at you inappropriately sometimes, but I’m hoping you’re not going to whale on me for that fact.”

“So, is this a staring-and-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off-for-sex kind of thing or are we talking staring-and-thinking-of-you-while-eating-waffles moment?” Aidan asks, staring at Dean’s hand.

“Bit of both?” Dean offers. “I mean, I’m not exactly sure why a person ever has sex without a guarantee of good waffles in the morning,” he jokes. “Right, I’m going to put my hand away,” he says.

Aidan lets him get as far as tucking that hand back into his pocket before surging forward and cupping those beautifully red cheeks with both hands, grinning when Dean’s beard brushes against his cheeks and guarantees a good beard burn that makeup’s going to have to cope with. 

He doesn’t give a fuck, see.

Because he’s kissing Dean like he’s going to die if he doesn’t part his lips and get his tongue in. He’s going to faint if he doesn’t curl his fingers tighter and if he doesn’t find out what it feels like to grope Dean’s arse, then Aidan just doesn’t know what the point of life is.

When they part, Aidan’s breathless and giddy for lack of a better word.

“Good?” Aidan laughs breathlessly.

“Definitely staring at your cock, now,” Dean murmurs, eyes front and centre.

“Yeah,” Aidan murmurs. “My trailer’s closer. You wanna…?”

“I’m ashamed you even had to ask.”


End file.
